


Dr Terror's House of Horrors

by puddingshirt



Series: Learning to Cope [10]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Breakfast, Gen, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Age Play, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 15:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17347538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddingshirt/pseuds/puddingshirt
Summary: Michael has a nightmare. Jack and Jeremy fix that up.





	Dr Terror's House of Horrors

Jack wakes suddenly to a light touch on the back of his arm and a wet sniffle. Over his shoulder, in the dark, and without his glasses he can only make out a shape, but the shape whines, "Jack," in Mikey's voice. So Jack rolls over and flips his blankets back.

 

"What's up, Bubba?" he asks gently, wrapping arms around Michael and the bigger version of Jason as he climbs into the bed.

 

“Th,” Mikey stammers, burying his face into Jack’s neck. “The movie. Scary. Bad dream.”

 

Jack rubs a soothing hand up and down Mikey’s back and squints at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 4:08. “Was it the bad guy?” Mikey nods.

 

“‘N it was all the blood, and the guts, and-and-and--” the boy cuts himself off, hiccuping a tiny sob into Jack’s shoulder. Without a second thought, Jack curls around him protectively, rocking the boy back and forth as best as he could laying on his side. Anything to slow the tears soaking the collar of his shirt.

 

Movies like the ones they watch on Theater Mode don’t usually bother Michael, at least to Jack’s knowledge. “Was it because he looked like Lil J?” There wasn’t _actually_ any resemblance between Jeremy and the villain creeping through the shadows, save the short stature and scruffy beard, but it had been enough that him, Michael, and Geoff had roared with laughter at the thought of Jeremy covered in blood and chasing teenagers.

 

Mikey tries to curl further into Jack; his nose digs into Jack’s neck as he nuzzles in, confirming Jack’s suspicion. Jack brushes a hand over the back of Michael’s neck and notices it’s damp with cooling sweat. “He won’t get me,” Michael says, like he’s convincing himself.

 

“Not at all,” Jack replies. “He loves you too much.” Michael whines in response and clutches Big Jason tighter. “Promise.”

 

Mikey hesitates. “Promise-promise?” he asks.

 

“Promise-promise.” Their little family sure was full of repetition rituals. Jack could never be sure who thought of which one, but everyone kept up with them because they all seemed to satisfy the boys. This was one of them. Jack feels Michael relax against him and pets over his hair and back until both of them doze off again.

 

Jack wakes up a while later to Michael crawling back into the bed, probably from a bathroom trip, slings an arm over his middle, and dozes some more.

 

Then Michael wakes him up again; a tiny shake to his shoulder and Jack’s eyes snap open. “Had ‘nother dream,” Michael mumbles, gripping at the misshapen corner of Big Jason’s head he carries the sheep around by. Weak sunshine filters in past the gap in Jack’s curtains. His alarm clock says 6:36.

 

“It’s okay, Bubba,” Jack says. “I was gonna get up soon and make breakfast, since it’s my turn this weekend. Wanna help?” When he rubs a hand over Michael’s back, his shirt is uncomfortably wet. Michael shrugs. “I think we should put you in dry jammies either way, kiddo. You sweated right through these.”

 

Michael shimmies off Jack’s bed and waits, yawning widely. Jack puts on his glasses and sits up. Michael looks… small and scared and _tired_ . There are bags under his eyes. Big Jason hangs limply at his side, grip tight on the corner of his head. _Poor kid_ , Jack thinks to himself as he stands.

 

He takes Michael’s hand and leads him to his bedroom, then picks out a dry shirt and pair of pajama pants for him. “Want help?” he asks.

 

Even when he’s small like this, Michael is fairly independent, so Jack isn’t surprised by the firm headshake. Michael puts Big Jason delicately on his pillow, then hands Jack his sweat-damp clothing as he changes. Rather than just toss the damp clothing in Michael’s hamper, Jack hangs them over the sides so they dry first.

 

Michael’s hand in his again when he’s ready is a small comfort for Jack--knowing that the kid isn’t isolating himself to be scared alone. Down they go to the kitchen, Big Jason in tow. “What should we make, huh?” he asks.

 

“Pancakes,” Michael says. “‘N bacon. ‘N eggs. Rye likes eggs.” Jack hooks his hands under Michael’s arms and lifts him to sit on the counter. That earns him a smile, but will no doubt earn him a lecture from Geoff later on.

 

“He does, Bubba. You’re so thoughtful,” he praises. He isn’t sure if Michael will accept it or if it’ll start the usual cup argument, but Jack pulls a sippy cup patterned with pastel elephants out of the cabinet and unscrews the lid. “What kind of juice?”

 

Michael looks thoughtful. “Apple,” he says, Ps rounded out into Bs. That alone tells Jack that he’ll be mercifully free of grumping about cups. He fills the cup with the last of the apple juice, tosses the bottle towards the recycling, and closes the cup. Michael reaches for it and takes it from Jack’s hand when he holds it out.

 

After a quick note on the grocery list, Jack ruffles Michael’s hair and pulls all the pancake supplies out of the pantry. He mixes up the batter and is pulling out a pan when he hears footsteps on the stairs.

 

“Mornin’ Jack,” Jeremy says, coming around the corner. Michael sucks in a breath and holds it. “Hey, Michael.”

 

Instead of answering, Michael holds Big Jason up like a shield. That makes Jeremy stop in his tracks. “Mikey?”

 

Jack puts the pan on the stove, but makes no move to turn it on just yet. “Mikey had a nightmare last night,” he explains, rubbing Michael’s leg soothingly. “You’re okay.”

 

“Mikey?” Jeremy says again. He sounds twice as worried; Michael’s not a shy kid. Michael peeks around Big Jason’s head, his one visible eye glassy with welling tears.

 

Jack can see the switch flip in Jeremy’s brain and tries to catch him before he’s got two crying kids on his hands. “The bad guy in the theater mode movie we watched yesterday was short and scruffy. ‘S’far as I can tell he dreamed it was you.”

 

“Really?” Jeremy twists his fingers together, and Jack just hopes Michael doesn’t set Jeremy off. Anyone else crying tends to get him crying too when he’s small. “I’m not scary, am I, Mikey?”

 

Michael shrugs. He doesn’t lower Big Jason.

 

“Look, Bubba,” Jack says, pointing. “JJ isn’t gonna get you. He’s gentle.” Michael’s other eye appears from behind Big Jason.

 

“Promise?” Michael blubbers.

 

“Promise,” Jeremy says, fiercely. “I’m gentle.” His echoing of Jack’s words seems to convince Michael to lower the sheep. His lip quivers. So does Jeremy’s. Michael slides off the counter and all but collapses onto Jeremy’s broad chest. “I’m never _ever_ gonna get you.”

 

“Gentle JJ,” Michael says, voice thick.

 

Jeremy snares him into a hug, tight around his middle, and rocks him back and forth. “Gentle JJ,” he confirms. Michael melts into the embrace, resting his cheek against Jeremy’s shoulder. Jack hides a smile by finishing the breakfast prep.

 

He doesn’t think Michael will be having anymore nightmares about this movie.

**Author's Note:**

> wow, i sure like to bully the boys. whoops.


End file.
